BR 



y ^/MEMOIR ~ ' 



OF 



GEORGE SHEPARD BOLTWOOD, 

who died at amherst, mass. 

july 19, 1833. 

Aged six years and two months. 



WRITTEN FOB THE MASSACHUSETTS SABBATH SCHOOL 
SOCIETY. AND REVISED BY THE COMMITTEE 



OF PUBLICATION. 



<6 

BOSTON: 

MASSACHUSETTS SABBATH SCHOOL SOCIETY. 
Depository, No. 24, Cornhill. 

1834. 



#'V. •* > RiJ * 



JOT/ 7/ 5 



Entered according 1 to the Act of Congress, in the year 
1834, by Christopher C. Dean, in the Clerk's Office 
of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



i-SU 



ADVERTISEMENT. 
<£> 

It is proper to state, that the following bio- 
graphical notice was prepared for publication 
in the Sabbath School Visiter. This will ac- 
count for its brevity; it being the writer's ob- 
ject, to abridge and condense as much as pos- 
sible. 

On receiving the manuscript, the Editor 
thought it too long to be published in one 
number of the Visiter ; and that it would de- 
tract much from its interest, to publish it in 
several different numbers. After suitable con- 
sultation, it was deemed best to publish it in 
its present form, should the parents of the little 
boy and the writer of his Memoir consent. 
Their permission was obtained ; and with it 
a few additional circumstances and facts, which 
they left to be arranged according to the dis- 
cretion of the 

EDITOR. 



MEMOIR. 

George Shepard Boltwood was 
born April 30th, 1827. He was fa- 
vored with pious parents, who seem to 
have felt, to an unusual degree, that 
their children were given them to be 
trained up for heaven, and to be trans- 
ferred to that blest abode, whenever 
He, who gave them, should see fit to 
remove them thither. Their early and 
faithful instructions, together with a 
quick understanding, and a retentive 
memory, soon secured for him a degree 
of intellectual and moral improvement 
much above his years. When a year 
and a half old, he began to listen with 
interest to his mother, as she talked to 
an older brother, and told him the 



8 

stories of Moses, and Joseph and his 
brethren. As he grew older, he took 
still more interest in such stories, as 
they were related to himself ; and, at 
three years of age, he was familiar 
with most of the stories both in the 
Old and New Testament. 

In early life, and so long as he lived, 
love of the Bible was a striking trait in 
his character. Nothing, that could be 
read to him, had such a charm as Bible 
stories. When the mother in reading 
to the children, left the choice of a 
book to them, it was rarely the case, 
that George did not say, ' read in the 
Bible, mother ; ' and when the perusal 
of a book of her own choice failed to 
secure his attention, she had only to 
take up the Bible in its stead, and she 
was sure of having in him an attentive 
and interested listener. 



He commenced going to school at 
three years of age, and made rapid ad- 
vancement. He learned to read in a 
few months, and soon became interest- 
ed in Geography, Natural History, and 
Arithmetic. He was very fond of his 
school, and of his school books ; and 
his progress in all his studies was re- 
markable. His knowledge of Geogra- 
phy, Arithmetic, and History espec- 
ially, was quite unusual, for a child of 
his age. He seems, very early, to 
have possessed a singular care and 
readiness in expressing his thoughts. 

Before he could write himself, he 
used to request his friends to pen his 
compositions for him, which he would 
carry to school, and read with the older 
scholars. 

1 Come mother,' he would say, ' do 
write me a composition. I Ml tell you 



10 

what to write ;' and as she wrote, she 
was often surprised at the manner in 
which he expressed himself. But in 
school it was religious instruction with 
which he seemed most pleased. He 
committed to memory a great many 
hymns ; and the scripture cards of the 
infant school were his delight — yet he 
was not a gloomy and unsocial boy. 
He was as fond of play and society as 
his books. When detained from school 
by stormy weather or sickness, he 
would amuse himself alternately with 
his playthings, and his books ; now, fit- 
ting his blocks into a house, or a bridge ; 
and now, perusing his Bible, or some 
other book, 4 selecting certain parts and 
reading them over and over again, so 
as almost to be able to say them with- 
out the book.' In his out-door sports, 
the writer has often witnessed his 



11 

cheerfulness, and apparent enjoyment ; 
and his little playmates, who often 
shared with him, the gifts of kind 
friends, while he lived, and who bear 
him in affectionate remembrance since 
his death, can testify to the generosity 
of his disposition, and the warmth of 
his attachments. George had a little 
sister, two years younger than himself, 
to whom he gave many proofs of affec- 
tion. When he was four years old, 
this sister was attacked with the can- 
ker rash in its worst form. George 
and his mother were sick, at the same 
time. In the anxiety of the family for 
his sister, he was often left alone upon 
his bed, for a long time. Feeling that 
it was right and necessary, he cheer- 
fully acquiesced, and made his book his 
companion, and forgot that he was 
alone. He was often heard reading 



1'2 

whole hymns and chapters, of his own 
selection. 

The sister died. George, now par- 
tially recovered, was able to be pres- 
ent, and witness the death-bed scene : 
it made an impression upon his tender 
mind, which was never erased. His 
grief, though manly, was deep; and 
ever after, showed itself, whenever 
anything occurred to remind him of his 
departed sister. He always spoke of 
her, however, not as a lifeless corpse, 
but as an immortal spirit. He often 
said : * Fanny ' (that was his sister's 
name,) ; Fanny is a spirit now ; we can- 
not see her, but we do not know but 
she can see us. She has gone to God. 
She has been washed in the blood of 
Christ. 9 During the illness, which con- 
fined him to the house for some weeks 
after the death of Fanny, scarce a day 



13 

passed, in which he did not, oftentimes 
and of his own accord, say something 
about her. After reading the parable 
of the rich man and Lazarus one day, 
he said to his mother : ' 1 suppose 
Fanny has gone to Abraham's bosom : 
do you think she can look down into 
hell, and see the rich man ; and do you 
think he can look up and see her ? ' 
Soon he added : ; Mother, it won't do 
us any good, if we do'nt go to heaven, 
to look up and see Fanny — we must go 
where she is.' As he was reading, at 
another time, about Jonah's gourd that 
withered, he looked up to his mother 
and said : ' Mother, that gourd was 
just like Fanny — she withered just so.' 
When able to go abroad again, he 
rode out in a new carriage, which Fan- 
ny had talked about riding in, before 
she died. ; Father,' said he, ' Fanny 
2 



14 

used to say she wanted to ride with 
papa in his new carriage ; but she 
would'nt come back to ride now if she 
could. She is a great deal happier now 
than she would be here — she is with 
God in heaven.' About this time, he 
altered a prayer, of his own accord, 
which he had been taught to say, so 
as to include a petition to be washed in 
the blood of Christ; and a night or 
two after, he told an older brother, 
4 that he never could go to heaven, un- 
less he was washed in the blood of 
Christ ; and that, if he did not ask to 
be washed, he never would be/ 

It was not long before he had a sec- 
ond attack of his disease, and fears 
were expressed to him that he was go- 
ing to be very sick, and perhaps to die. 
He said, ' he was willing to die, if God 
thought best.' 



15 



His aunt who took care of him, a 
week or two, in his mother's absence, 
during this illness, was reading aloud, 
one day, the little hymn beginning : 

1 Lord what is life — 'Tis like a flower, 

That blossoms, and is gone ; 
It flourishes its little hour 

With all its beauty on. 
Death comes, and like a wintry day, 

It cuts the little flower away.' * 

When his aunt had finished reading 
this with two other verses containing 
similar ideas, he exclaimed : ' That's 
just like Fanny. Aunt E. won't you 
write off those verses, and fold them 
up, and put Fanny's name on the back 
of them — they are so like her.' As it 
began to grow dark, one evening, he 
said: ; Fanny has no need of the sun, 
or the moon, God is her light.' 

Ever after this sickness, he had a 
presentiment, that he should not live to 

* See hymn at the close. 



16 

manhood. When told of things he 
would do, when he was grown up, he 
would often say : ' I shan't live to be a 
man, I shall die before that :' and when 
his friends w T ere planning for the mor- 
row, he would sometimes warn them, 
by saying : ' How do you know you 
shall live till to-morrow ? ' 

Once in the course of the summer, 
when speaking of his money, he said, 
' When I die, mother, I should like to 
have you give part of it to the mission- 
aries ; and the rest you may take to 
buy a ring, and have my hair put into it.' 

From this time, he was fond of se- 
lecting hymns upon death and the judg- 
ment ; and he was rarely known to 
take up the Sabbath School Hymn 
Book, without reading the hymn be- 
ginning : 

1 Death has been here and borne away'* 
* See hymn at the close. 






17 

The hymn before it was also a fa- 
vorite. 

His much loved hymn book still re- 
mains in possession of the family ; and 
is highly valued as a memorial of the 
departed son and brother. It is truly 
an interesting relic — interesting in it- 
self, and interesting as a memorial of 
him, that loved and used it so much. 
It is not torn, or marked, or scribbled, 
or needlessly soiled: but it is almost 
literally worn out by use ; and nothing 
could furnish more striking or pleasing 
testimony to his fond and frequent per- 
usal of the little volume. 

A little brother that was added to 
the family, after the death of his 
sister, he regarded as filling her place. 
As the little one was recovering from a 
fit of sickness, when a few months old, 

I George said : ' you are a dear little babe; 
2* 



18 

but your mother must not love you too 
well.' The force of this remark was 
felt by the mother at the time, as show- 
ing the dangerous situation of an idol- 
ized child ; but it thrilled through the 
heart with far greater power, when 
George was gone, and the babe, only a 
few days after, was torn from her em- 
brace by relentless death. 

On commencement day he said: 
' Mother, we had no little brother last 
commencement, and we don't know as 
we shall have him next commence- 
ment.' 

George commenced attending Sab- 
bath School, at the age of three years 
and a half. His teachers loved him, 
and he loved them in turn, and re- 
garded them as a kind of standard; 
and quoted them for authority. Some 
of them spoke of his docility, and re- 



19 

markable love and knowledge of the 
scriptures, during his life ; and they all 
remember him now, as a boy, affection- 
ate, intelligent, and serious above his 
companions, and far above his years. 
The preparation of his lessons was not 
a task, but a delight. He was accus- 
tomed to get his Bible and question 
book, and go to his father, and ask him 
to get his lesson with him; and his 
father found him not a burden but an 
assistance in preparing his own lessons, 
as a teacher. The readiness, simplicity 
and appropriateness, with which he 
would answer a question, or express the 
meaning of a verse, were as profitable 
to the teacher, as they were surprising 
and gratifying to the father. 

He was always anxious to attend the 
Sabbath School. To be detained from 
it, a single Sabbath, was a hardship. 



20 

He was also much interested in the 
Sabbath School concert; and often 
wanted to know how old he must be, 
before he could attend constantly. He 
went several times, before he died ; 
and generally asked to go. It was 
not enough for his mother, who was a 
constant attendant, to say that she 
would tell him the stories that were re- 
lated, when she came home. He said 
4 he was afraid she would not tell him 
all that was said.' 

Love of the Bible, has been mentioned 
as a striking characteristic of George. 
When he read for himself, the Bible 
was most frequently the book of his 
choice ; and when his friends read to 
him : ; read in the Bible,' was general- 
ly his request. In the early part of 
his short life, stories from the old Tes- 
tament seemed to interest him most. 



21 

As soon as he had become familiar tvith 
figures, and had learned to find places 
in the Bible, by the chapter and verse, 
he used to sit down, with Emerson's 
historical Catechism before him, and 
the Bible in his hand, and look out all 
the passages referred to under the pic- 
tures ; and read them, till most of the 
incidents were treasured up in his mem- 
ory. 

As he grew older, the parables be- 
came a favorite portion of the Bible. 
The last year of his life, especially, he 
devoted much time and attention to 
those heavenly instructions, which 
' dropped like the rain, and distil- 
led as the dew,' from the lips of our 
Savior. He was particularly pleased 
when he found in the S. S. Library, a 
little work explaining the parables. 
He kept the book sometime ; and used 



22 

to take his Bible, and read the parables 
and ask his mother to read the expla- 
nations. In the warmth of his admira- 
tion, he exclaimed, more than once : 
' Mother ! when our Sabbath School 
lesson comes on the parables, what a 
fine book this will be to help us get our 
lessons.' 

The following incident will illustrate 
his knowledge of the Bible, and his 
readiness in applying that knowledge. 

When about four years of age, the 
book of Jonah, was a favorite ; and he 
read it, till he could repeat almost the 
whole of it. While visiting a friend, 
with his father, about this time, some 
one present related an account of a 
man in New Bedford, who a short time 
before, was swallowed by a whale. 
George heard the story with intense 
interest, and then asked, if the man was 



23 

killed. Being told he was, he imme- 
diately inquired, with great surprise and 
eagerness : ; Why did'nt he Pray P 

Next to the Bible, the Pilgrims Pro- 
gress was the book he valued most. 
He first met with the abridged form, 
in the S. S. Library, and read it through 
a number of times, in the course of the 
season. Before he was five, the large 
volume was put into his hands; for 
awhile he read it all the time — his 
whole soul was engaged in it; and, 
even when he had laid it aside for a 
season of play, he would be asking for 
the explanation of it. ; Mother,' he 
would sometimes say, ' it don't really 
mean, that Christian was a man, who 
went this long journey, and left all his 
friends behind, but it means to tell us 
of a man who wanted to go heaven, 
and so he gave up all for God ; and 



24 

these are the troubles he met with, as 
as he went to the Celestial City.' 

' 1 have seen him,' says his mother, 
' sit for an hour, (1 don't know but I 
might say for hours) with his book 
opened before him, wholly absorbed in 
its contents, and unconscious of what 
was passing around him ; at times read- 
ing aloud any thing that struck him as 
peculiarly wonderful.' 

George was fond of prayer, as well 
as reading, and often connected the two 
things together. After his mother had 
complied with his request in reading 
the Bible, that request was often fol- 
lowed by another : ' Mother now won't 
you pray with me?' He loved to 
pray himself. As soon as he could 
learn any thing, he was taught forms of 
prayer ; and, as he grew older, and 
thought and felt more upon religious 



25 

subjects, he altered those forms, and 
added to them, according to his feelings 
and wants. He prayed for others as 
well as himself; and, whether he pray- 
ed for himself or his friends, in the lat- 
ter part of his life, he always, of his 
own accord, offered the petition, ' that 
they might be washed in the blood of 
Christ.' 'Washing in the blood of 
Christ,' was his favorite expression, 
when he wished to convey the idea of 
purity and holiness. 

George was a benevolent child. 
That benevolence, which shone so 
brightly in his death, was kindled and 
cherished in early life. We have al- 
ready seen, that ' the missionaries ' were 
made heirs of a considerable portion 
of his little property, in a verbal will, 
whiqh he made under the presentiment 
that he had not long to live. He was 
3 



•26 

fond of hearing missionary stones. 
He was once very much interested in 
hearing an address which was made in 
the meeting-house, by a native Chero- 
kee. He carried his purse, and when 
the box was passed for a contribution 
turned it inside out, to make sure of 
giving all he had. The system of 
monthly contribution in the Sabbath 
School was welcomed by him when first 
introduced ; and it found him a more 
than willing contributor while he lived. 
He exhibited a very kind and gener- 
ous disposition, both in the family and 
among his playmates. When any thing 
good was given him, he frequently pro- 
posed to divide it into halves ; and, 
having given one half to his oldest 
brother, then to subdivide the other 
half for his Father and Mother. If 
he had an orange, he wanted it cut 



27 

into as many pieces as there were per- 
sons in the house ; and his little play- 
mates, who shared his amusements, 
were generally certain of a share in his 
enjoyments. 

He was rarely, if ever, known to har- 
bor resentment. Sometimes he seemed 
to feel an injury keenly for a mo- 
ment ; but was soon reconciled, and 
perhaps, ready to give a part of what 
he loved to the one, who had injured 
his feelings. 

His teacher has often remarked on 
his strict adherence to truth, as a strik- 
ing trait in his character. She never 
knew him guilty of falsehood, how r ever 
strong the temptation might be. When 
he had done wrong, he was easily made 
to see and to confess it ; and always 
seemed to love his parents and teach- 



28 

ers the more, when they reproved or 
punished him for his faults. 

We now come to the brightest scene 
in the history of little George : so I call 
the death-bed scene ; and so it was, for 
4 the path of the just shineth brighter 
and brighter unto the perfect day. 5 
His constitution was, naturally, rather 
feeble : the disease had probably long 
been preying upon his vitals ; and now 7 
was about to strike its fangs to the 
heart. The incidents of his last sick- 
ness cannot be detailed, though they 
would be interesting, as they would oc- 
cupy too much space. Such parts 
only will be given as seem to illustrate 
his character and the grace of God. 
That he was in much pain, at times 
through his sickness, is obvious from 
exclamations like this, extorted from 



29 

him; ; O my little hands, my little 
hands, they ache, they ache.' Yet he 
discovered no impatience, and seemed 
to think quite as much of the trouble 
of his friends as of his own sufferings. 

So long as he could bear his own 
weight, he w T ould allow none of the 
family to be disturbed for his sake, dur- 
ing the night ; but would have his 
drinks &c, placed where he could help 
himself. When his sickness was spo- 
ken of, he always said : ' God made 
him sick and he had a right to do so.' 

After disease had made great pro- 
gress in wasting his little frame, his af- 
fectionate and benevolent heart felt for 
others, and flowed out in expressions of 
love and good will to all. 

' I love my father and mother,' he 
said, ' I love my friends. I love every 
body in the world.' 
3* 



30 

On sabbath afternoon, only a week 
after he had attended Sabbath School, 
he was suddenly taken with choaking. 
He now took his mother by the hand, 
and, with great earnestness, said : 

f Mother, I shall die — I shall choke 
to death.' He recovered from this 
attack, only to suffer a more violent 
one, about the same time the next day. 
He then seemed near suffocation ; and, 
when apparently almost gone, he said : 

4 Mother I 'm going to die — I shall 
go to heaven. 5 * 1 can't breathe,' he 
continued, ' I shall die before the doc- 
ter comes — 1 should like to get well.' 
When his mother told him, 'God 
could relieve and make him well ; but 
if he saw fit to take him awav, she 
hoped he felt willing,' he assented, and 
seemed to feel that God would do 
what was right and best. On a partial 



31 

recovery from this distressing attack, 
his mother commenced repeating the 
verse : ' The Lord is our Shepherd,' 
he quickly finished it by saying : 

' I shall not want.' She proceeded : 

' Though I pass through the valley 
of the shadow of death : ' he added, 
with much emphasis : 

' I will fear no evil.' 

While disease was racking his frame, 
and was soon to lay it in ruins, he felt 
much anxiety on learning that his old- 
est brother was somewhat ill, at his 
grandmother's near by ; and he could 
not be easy, till he saw him at his side. 
And then, as the warmest affection 
was binding him to his brother and 
other dear friends, who were gathered 
around his bed, he was asked, ' which 
he loved most, father and mother, or 



32 

the Saviour?' He immediately re- 
plied, ' the Saviour. 9 ' Well, which 
would you rather do, live here with 
father and mother, or go and live with 
Christ?' 'Go and live with Christ,' 
was his prompt reply. 
p His mother asked him, 4 if she should 
tell all the Sabbath school children to 
love Jesus Christ?' he said, 'yes;' 
4 and all your little playmates?' ' yes.' 
Wishing to ascertain whether he 
would now confirm the disposal which, 
in anticipation of an early death, he 
had wished to have made of his money, 
his friends asked him what should be 
done with his money, when he was 
gone ; 4 shall some of it be given to Mr. 
Perkins to carry to the heathen? '* 

* Rev. Justin Perkins was superintendent of the Sab- 
bath School in Amherst, some part of the time, while 
George was a member of it. He has now gone as a 
Missionary to the Nestorians. 



33 

With much satisfaction he answered, 
'yes.' 4 How much shall we give 
him?' 'Give him all? was his em- 
phatic answer. 

His money amounted to twelve dol- 
lars ; and that is now in the hands of 
Mr. Perkins, winging its way towards 
Persia, laden, perhaps, w r ith untold bles- 
sings to successive generations of Nes- 
torian children. Having learned to be 
benevolent in health, George was be- 
nevolent in sickness — benevolent to the 
last. May those children, who read 
his little Memoir, go and do like him, 
that they may also die like him ; and 
may parents, who read it encourage 
and stimulate their children to do so, 
that should their little ones early be 
removed, they may have that unspeak- 
able satisfaction which now enables the 



34 

parents of George, though sorrowing 
much, to ' rejoice evermore.' 

In his last hours, George loved the 
Bible, and felt the value of his knowl- 
edge of it more than ever before. 
When his strength had failed, and his 
eyesight had gone, his memory was 
stored with its truth, and his heart full 
of its consolation. Again and again 
did he repeat passages like these : 
6 Though 1 pass through the valley of 
the shadow of death, I will fear no 
evil.' ' Suffer little children to come 
unto me, for of such is the kingdom of 
heaven.' ' He shall lead his flock like 
a shepherd, shall gather the lambs in 
his arms, and carry them in his bosom.' 
The hymns, too, which he had learned 
in the family and the Sabbath school, 
were often repeated by him, and af- 



35 

forded him much comfort, especially 
the following : 

1 See Israel's gentle Shepherd stand ; ' * 

and, 

1 God moves in a mysterious way.' * 

This last was sung at the funeral of 
his sister, and he was ever after pecu- 
liarly fond of it. 

He loved prayer to the end. When- 
ever a minister or pious friend visited 
him, he wished them to pray with him 
before leaving the room, and once or 
twice, while the family only were in 
the room, he said, of his own accord : 
i all pray ; • and he seemed to join in 
the prayer, while his father commend- 
ed him to God. 

His hope was in Jesus. A clergy- 
man, who visited him a few days be- 
fore his death, when he first came into 

* See hymns at the close. 



36 

the sick room, asked him, 'what he 
was thinking about.' He answered, 

' About Jesus Christ.' 

He often said he loved the Saviour, 
because he died for sinners ; and unless 
he was washed in his blood, he could not 
go to heaven. And when the exam- 
ple of dying Stephen was suggested to 
him, he commended his spirit to the 
Saviour, in the following original and 
emphatic manner: 

6 Lord Jesus, receive my spirit — 
Lord Jesus, receive my heart — Lord 
Jesus receive my souL' The suffering 
of Christ in the garden and on the 
cross, were mentioned to him; and af- 
terwards, his mind dwelt much on 
them, and he was heard to say in 
broken accents : 

4 The crown — the thorns — precious 
blood- — he died for sinners.' Once only, 



37 

he seemed to lose, for a short time, 
his confiding sense of the presence of 
his Saviour. In an agony of distress 
for want of breath, he had said : 

6 1 want to be well.' His mother 
told him, that the Saviour only could 
help him, and he must pray to him. 
With much feeling, he replied : 

i If I do, he don't hear me. 9 Short- 
ly after, however, when asked if he 
felt that he loved the Saviour, he re- 
plied, ' yes ; ' and repeated some of his 
favorite verses. 

Heaven, also, and his departed sister 
were soon spoken of, and he ex- 
claimed : , 

' Yes, Fanny is there, and Mr. Wash- 
burn # is there, and a great many little 
boys are there, and a great many little 

* His beloved minister, whom, a short time before, 
be bad seen carried to hi* grave. 



38 

girls not bigger than I ; the angels are 
there too, and the Saviour is there.' 
It has been remarked, that next to 

the Bible, the Pilgrim's Progress was 
the book of his choice. He had not 
seen the book for months before, yet, 
near his end, his mind was full of its 
glowing imagery. For two or three 
hours he seemed to fancy himself jour- 
neying and approaching ; the celestial 
city; 5 and at intervals during that 
period, among many others that were 
lost, the following detached expressions 
were distinctly heard : 

4 1 'm in the river Jordan — I 'm up 
to my knees — P m up to my chin — 
Help, Jeisus, help ! help me through. 
I 'm going to heaven — burst the chains 
— open the gates, the shining gates — I 
came in at the right gate — I 'm going to 
Mount Zion — I 'm waiting — I 'm going 



39 

— the angels — the celestial city — the 
gates are open.' 

The closing scene was now near. 
He had talked less than usual, for an 
hour previous ; he was raised up and 
supported by pillows, at his father's 
side ; he reached out his arm, made 
an attempt to kiss his father, and said, 
in a clear, though faint and tender 
voice : 

4 Farewell, dear father; meet me in 
heaven.' He then reached towards 
his mother, and, putting his arms around 
her neck, kissed her, and said : 

4 Farewell, dear mother : meet me 
in heaven.' Seeing his grandmother 
at the foot of the bed, he said : 

4 Farewell, dear grandmother.' Then 
looking around the room, he said : 

4 Farewell, all ; all meet me in heav- 
en.' He said little more, though he 



40 

survived sometime. His strength failed 
rapidly; his breath grew shorter and 
shorter ; he did not struggle, but sweet- 
ly fell asleep without a groan, at the 
age of six years and two months. 

To children, this little memoir is 
full of instruction and warning ; to pa- 
rents and teachers it affords much en- 
couragement ; and to all it says, as our 
Saviour said : ; Except ye be converted 
and become as little children, ye shall 
not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' 

That all who read it, may read with 
profit, is the heart's desire and prayer 
of the writer. But, whether they de- 
rive any benefit from its perusal or not, 
God will be honored, and divine grace 
will shine with fresh lustre, with every 
new star that is seen to sparkle in the 
diadem of the Redeemer, 



LETTER. 

The following letter was addressed to the 
parents of little George, soon after his death, 
by Mr. Perkins. It was written in haste, and 
designed as a consolatory letter, to be seen only 
by the bereaved parents and friends : yet, as 
its preservation will be gratifying to the friends, 
and its perusal interesting to all, who become 
interested in the foregoing memoir, we feel jus- 
tified in publishing it in this connection. 

Editor. 

West Springfield, Aug. 2, 1833. 
Mr. and Mrs. Boltwood, 
My very dear Friends. 
Be assured that 1 most heartily sym- 
pathise with you in your late afflictive 
bereavement. I was surprized and 
deeply affected, on my return to Am- 
herst, after an absence of but little 

more than a week, to be told that 

4* 



42 

George was no more. I had not 
known of his illness, till I heard of 
his death. I met him in the street a 
little before I left ; I stopped, and con- 
versed with him a moment ; and, I well 
recollect, that I was much delighted, 
with his intelligent eye and amiable 
countenance. That eye has often met 
my own in the Sabbath School ; and, 
though it now sleeps in death, its ap- 
pearance will forever remain indelibly 
engraven upon my memory. 

I speak, my Friends, of your bereave- 
ment as afflictive ; but can we really 
regard the providence such, which has, 
thus early, transplanted that lovely 
flower from a land of darkness, of sor- 
row, and of tears, to the fair Paradise 
above ? There it will open, and 
brighten, and bloom, with unchecked 



43 

and ever increasing lustre ; and shine 
a brilliant luminary, in the firmament of 
heaven: still, to the flesh it is painful 
in the extreme. Your hearts, I know, 
are bleeding ; but, while you weep, you 
also rejoice. How rich your sources 
of consolation. 

The developement of spiritual knowl- 
edge and religious affection, in little 
George during his sickness, as I have 
been informed, are truly wonderful. 
O ! we would not, if we could, pluck 
such a star from its orbit above ! Let 
us rather adore the grace that made 
him what he was, and bow quietly to 
the will of God in his removal. 

As I have suggested, I have been 
deeply affected in view of all the cir- 
cumstances pertaining to the sickness 

and death of George. 1 could not re- 

4## 



44 

frain from tears when apprized of his 
dying legacy. The feelings with which 
1 took, from the hand of his father, 
the twelve dollars, — the whole estate of 
the little saint, bequeathed with so 
much intelligence and devotedness to 
the Nestorian mission, are more easily 
conceived than described. May other 
children follow his bright example of 
industry and self-denial to accumulate 
for Zion; and may this valuable lega- 
cy become a rich boon to many Nesto- 
rian children, who may repeat the name 
of little George with rapture on earth ; 
and, by his benefaction, be prepared to 
attune golden harps to the same an- 
thems of redeeming grace, which he 
now celebrates in the kingdom above. 

That you may be sustained and con- 
soled under this trying dispensation; 



45 

and that we may all be admonished by 
it to be ever ready for the coming of 
our Lord, is the fervent prayer of 
yours, 

very affectionately 

and sincerely 
Justin Perkins. 






HYMNS. 

The following hymns are inserted here in 
full, as illustrating the character and feelings 
of little George, with whom they were favorite 
hymns. He scarcely ever took up the hymn 
book without reading them. These with a 
few others were his delight in life and his con- 
solation in death. May they prove equally in- 
teresting and beneficial to children, who read 
his little memoir. 

The second was sung by the S. School of 
which he had been a member, on the Sabba h 
immediately succeeding his death. 



Oh ! what is life? 'T is like a flower 
That blossoms — and is gone : 

It flourishes its little hour, 
With all its beauty on : — 

Death comes — and, like a wintry day, 
It cuts the lovely flower away. 



48 

Oh ! what is life ? 'Tis like the bow 

That glistens in the sky : 
We love to see its colors glow — 

But while we look they die : 
Life falls as soon ; to-day 'tis here — 

To-morrow it may disappear. 

Lord, what is life ? — If spent with thee, 
In humble praise and prayer, 

How long or short our life may be, 
We feel no anxious care : 

Though life depart, our joys shall last 
When life and all its joys are past. 



Death has been here, and born away 
A Brother from our side, — 

Just in the morning of his day, 
As young as we — he died. 

Not long ago, he fill'd his place, 
And sat with us to learn : 

But he has run his mortal race, 
And never can return. 



49 

Perhaps our time may be as short, 
Our days may fly as fast ; 

O Lord, impress the solemn thought, 
That this may be our last ! 

All needful strength is thine to give. 

To thee our souls apply, 
For grace to teach us how to live, 

Oh ! make us fit to die. 



See the kind Shepherd, Jesus, stands, 
With all engaging charms ; 

Hark, how he calls the tender lambs, 
And folds them in his arms. 

Permit them to approach, he cries, 
Nor scorn their humble names : 

For 'twas to bless such souls as these 
The Lord of angels came. 

He'll lead us to the heav'nly streams, 
Where living waters flow ; 

And guide us to the fruitful fields, 
Where trees of knowledge grow. 



50 

The feeblest lamb amidst the flock, 
Shall be its Shepherd's care ; 

While folded in the Saviour's arm, 
We're safe from every snare. 



God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform, 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never-failing skill, 
He treasures up his bright designs, 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; 

The clouds ye so much dread, 
Are big with mercy, and shall break 

In blessings on your head. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
But trust him for his grace : 

Behind a frowning Providence 
He hides a smiling face. 



51 

His purposes will ripen fast, 
Unfolding ev'ry hour; 

The bud may have a bitter taste, 
But sweet will be the flow'r. 

Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
And scan his work in vain ; 

God is his own interpreter, 
And he will make it plain. 



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